


Generation Why

by nomisupernova



Series: DaveKat Music Fics 2019 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flash Fic, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Humanstuck, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Music, Lazy Mornings, Love Confessions, M/M, POV Dave Strider, Requited Love, Romance, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Karkat Vantas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomisupernova/pseuds/nomisupernova
Summary: Somewhere between snuggling on the couch, between warm hands pressed to your own in the cold breeze of winter’s last gasp, you find yourself here. Chest flushed to chest, feet tangled together, his head tucked just under the crook of your neck.You’re in love with Karkat Vantas.





	Generation Why

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeebuoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeebuoy/gifts).



> This fic takes its title from _Generation Why_ by Conan Gray, which my partner showed to me. Thank you so much, love. <3

Somewhere between snuggling on the couch, between warm hands pressed to your own in the cold breeze of winter’s last gasp, you find yourself here. Chest flushed to chest, feet tangled together, his head tucked just under the crook of your neck. 

You’re in love with Karkat Vantas.

You’re not really sure how it happened, if you’re being honest. All you wanted to do was meet your online friend. And a weekend visit turned to plans to spend the summer. Then summer turned to you looking for schools to board to in the Chicago area. After the first semester there, you made the plunge to move over.

You remember that talk, between yourself and Dirk, explaining that you were moving halfway across the country, height-ways, for your friend. You recall raised eyebrows, the mumbling and slurring of words over orange juice and pancakes. His slight but stiff concern and your gruff assurance that it would be fine, you would be with a friend. Dirk’s expression softened at that, the mention of a “friend” and he allowed it, though rather begrudgingly. You took off the next week and rented the closest empty apartment to Karkat’s childhood home.

The first kiss, you’ll never forget. It was over the first summer away from home, under the late-June fireworks at the local carnival. You were whispering thoughts of homesickness, how you longed for the sticky warmth of Texan summers and the smell of the Gulf spray on the docks. Karkat’s hand was wrapped in yours, as they tended to be then. It always filled you with a sense of ease for some reason, at the time, of course, you ignorantly assumed it was more of the platonic persuasion. He called your name, eyes fogged with the veil of the first few beers you’d been drinking, you turned to him. His lips caught against yours just as the first shot was fired. Two explosions at once, honestly, it was more romantic than it had any right being.

Then again, Karkat has always been into that type of thing.

And so, nearly two years after you’d first kissed, you lie here in bed with him. His eyes are drooping deeply with sleep and you can hear him just barely mumbling, trying to keep himself awake so he doesn’t have to miss a moment with you. 

“Did… you hear me?” his voice perks up slightly, rousing him from the thickness of slumber. You nod your head, he’s been talking about his latest creative writing assignment and how irritating it is that he has to go over the  _ romantic classics. _ “Kate… er… Miss Jeane is ridiculous… how many times do I have to argue with that woman that Romeo and Juliet was already fucking… beat to death in…” he pauses to shake his head slightly, jolting himself awake further. “It was already beat to death in high school?? It’s not even fucking romantic! There’s nothing tender or touching about two fucking complete dipshits killing themselves.”

“I mean… ain’t it technically a tragedy?” you add, smoothing down a stray curl that’s threatening to tangle itself into an intense slipknot. You know he doesn’t like it when his hair gets all fucked up and he  _ will _ wake himself up the rest of the way to fix it. 

“That’s… what I’ve been trying…” he yawns, eyes drooping again, “to tell her.”

The room lapses into a serene silence, you listen to the sounds of the spring crickets and the scratch of the needle on the record player in your living room. It’s almost four am and Karkat is still so insistent on being awake. But you think it’s time to coax him into resting, the least you can do is make an attempt to pressure him into it slightly. 

“Don’t you think you should go to sleep?” Your left hand is squeezed tightly by his and you pick back up on your mini-quest of smoothing his hair down from the frazzled birds nest it always is. “I’ll be here in the morning, Karkat.”

He’s quiet for a moment, you think for a second that he’s finally fallen asleep. His lips part to take in a sharp breath, “I… don’t want to be away from you.”

“Why is that?” You really only ask it to be a bit of a smart ass. You… you are  _ aware _ of how he feels, you know how you feel, and you  _ know  _ he knows how you feel. But you’d rather wait until he’s ready to put it out there before you say those three words. Because you know that once you do, you can never take it back.

“I…” He pauses, gripping for some form of purchase onto his consciousness. “I like you, Dave, a lot. I think…” 

He sits up some, his drowsy eyes lock onto yours. “What?”

“Dave, I… god, I love you.” A soft and sleepy blush settles onto his cheeks, “There, is that what you wanted me to say? I know… I know you do.”

“Karkat, I don’t  _ want _ anything from you… other than like, your attention, I guess? Maybe your time and to listen to them sweet vocal cords of yours rambling my fuckin’ head off until I fall asleep.” Your right hand traces the nape of his neck, up and around to his jaw. Fingers dance across his jawline and you stroke your thumb in small, gentle circles on his still-warm cheeks. “But in case you’re wonderin’, an’ I’m sure you are,  _ I love you. _ ” 

He stares at you for a moment, you feel his pulse thrumming under his skin. You’d think that, after everything the two of you had done together, this would be nothing. But then you recall how much of a romantic the boy you’re talking to is. After exchanging the fact that you’re both trans, seeing each other for the first time, bonding over mutual scars and survival stories, hands straying somewhat into places where they didn’t belong at the first house party you both attended (then promising to yourself not to bring it up if he didn’t); that saying “I love you” wouldn’t be so big of a deal. 

But this is Karkat fucking Vantas and he wants nothing more than the most perfect kind of romance. 

He bites on his lip softly, you’re tempted to reach forward and kiss him to sleep if you must, but you know that probably won’t lead anywhere PG-13 and you need to get him to  _ rest. _ So instead of being tempted by plush lips, swollen with earlier heated kisses, you get more insistent with your tender strokes on his cheeks. “Go to sleep, yeah? I’ll be right here, I promise. I don’t have any classes until noon.” 

“But--”

“Shhh…” you kiss the top of his forehead, “go to sleep. Please?”

His eyes get heavy again and you see just how  _ exhausted _ he looks. He must feel it too because he slumps down, hand uncurling from your left to curl around your shoulder. You listen again to the sounds of the early morning and regulate your breathing. Soon enough, he falls asleep, that is, if his even gentle sighs are anything to judge by. And you’ve been having so many “sleepovers” by now that you’re more than used to the sounds of his slumber. 

You wrap your hand around his sides, curling him in closer, you roll over to fall asleep yourself. He naturally moves with you, as though he’s been doing this his entire life. His head rests under your chin and you pull him in just a little further, tugging your blanket upward to keep his shoulders warm. Your eyes drift shut just as you hear the first song of the morning birds outside of your bedroom window, safe and secure.

You love Karkat and he loves you. 

**Author's Note:**

> Cheers to a tender 2019!


End file.
